


You wouldn't understand

by Bleach_ed_Na_tsu



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu/pseuds/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu
Summary: There are some things that we fear that no-one who isn't us will ever understand. It can be irrational or brought on by our upbringing and experiences. But there are a few duties that cause us to face this terrifying fear and there are some things that help us face them with confidence.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	You wouldn't understand

Reborn gave him a nod once he realised that his student needed time alone, he exited through the double doors to take his place among the waiting Mafioso. He wore of smirk indiscernible as pride or excitement but was quick to hide it under his fedora as he made to exit and leave his student to his thoughts.

Tsuna wore a suit as black as soot, stitched and made to conform to ever curve and point of his body by Leon. It was the only suit he'd wear with his mantle, the one inherited from Primo so many generations ago now, and over the years Leon has made enough suits so that Tsuna could wear them multiple times without rousing too much suspicion- not that Tsuna really cared for the whims of the mafia and celebrities in regards to their rules about wearing the same clothing more than once.

Running his thin hand through his hair again he huffed a shaking, constricted breath. His heart hammered in his chest and his lungs struggled to pull in the air his nervous body desperately needed.

It wasn't cold in the room where he paced, but Tsuna found that he was numb, his fingers and toes felt deprived of warmth and the faint taste of adrenaline patrolled his veins, threatening to overpower him into hyper dying will. Though now certainly was not the time.

Soft, deafening piano music played from a stereo in the corner. The song was soft in the beginning building and building in a crescendo before balancing out and descending into something soft and gentle once again. It was his favourite piece, closing his eyes to the warm, wood paneled room Tsuna imagined the man playing it on the Grand piano in the family room in the deeper part of their mansion where only he, the guardians and extremely close family were allowed to enter.

Gokudera had written this piece not long after Tsuna had accepted him when they were but children really. The piece was apt to describe all he had been through and all Tsuna had offered him, though, Tsuna had only heard it recently when he admitted to Gokudera that he had listened into a few of the silver-haired Mafioso's private moments at a dilapidated piano back in their high-school years. At first Gokudera was ashamed, a right-hand should not have such a flimsy talent after all. But Tsuna soon admitted- with a kind of pride and love- that he found the sound soothing and was comforted more by not many other things- besides maybe the presence of the guardians- than Gokudera's music. Of course, he had admitted to all this while presenting Gokudera with an antique piano he had spent years looking for on the Bomber's nineteenth birthday. The only thing Tsuna asked in return was for his best friend to play it when he could, more specifically for Tsuna himself. The first composition Gokudera played was the one soothing Tsuna in the background.

Listening to the notes, the flow of the music and the way his very soul seemed to even out with the music he opened his eyes.

Looking down at the paper in his palms he ran through it one, last, time.

The edges were crumpled, the words smudged slightly with criss-crossing pencil marks giving direction to the reader on how the words, lines and paragraphs were to be delivered. If one was looking closely enough they might notice that the hand-writing was not Tsuna's and was instead a collage of eight different hand-writings, some scruffy and some beautifully calligraphic.

As his eyes, determined and flickering ever so slightly with orange, drifted past the final words he took a deep, centering breath. Tsuna knew he could not afford to let down the owners of the eight hand-writings, he knew he had a duty to perform and it was a duty he knew he had to perform on his own.

He had enough of this irrational, murdering fear. It was time he began to get over it and throw it into submission. If it took a life-or-death performance to do that, then so be it.

Tsuna always did provide better under pressure.

Tonight was the biggest moment of his life thus far, his first official speech as Vongola Decimo where Nono wasn't introducing him or simply giving him rehearsed lines to spout. No, this was his speech, his doing, his decision.

His hands were clammy and numb, his heart hammering so hard that he almost couldn't breathe. He felt the muscles of his ribs tense and stop the expansion of his lungs. The pain and the buzz in his veins proved to him that he was on the cusp of a panic attack, something he hadn't had since his early days under Reborn tutelage. That thought was almost enough to send him back into a fit, his vision darkened lightly at the sides as he tried –seemingly in vain- to pull in some centering breaths. Tried to listen to Gokudera's music. Tried to get his mind back into gear.

He had told Reborn too many times to count how _difficult_ it was for him to speak out in front of people- those he knew and more so stranger- but Reborn scoffed and called him weak. Difficult didn't even really begin to describe it. There was no word to describe the utter terror and pain that this kind of thing did to Tsuna. But Tsuna knew Reborn- or anyone for that matter- would never understand the clenching in his chest, the restriction on his airways and the pupil dilating panic that swept him when he was faced with giving a speech. Reborn had never been self-conscious, Dame, scared, and judged. He was confident. Always had been.

No one who had never been in Tsuna's position- or had been Tsuna himself- would ever understand.

Swallowing his dry mouth, he listened to the ending of Boss' Lullaby taking strength from the solid, determined final note, and casting his cowardice as far away into his core, Tsuna entered the room filled with Mafioso awaiting his Grande legacy and hoped his nervousness didn't translate to as wobbling conviction as it had that afternoon.

Standing at the podium, his mantle in place and his gloves threatening to light, Tsuna looked out over the crowed before opening his mouth as a strong, warm voice- almost a more welcoming version of his HDW persona- flowed like tempered chocolate from his lips and all listened with rapt attention to the sound and his strong words before the message sunk in and terrified, excited silence gripped the air before the new boss.

"Ladies and gentleman, before I start I want to thank you for taking the time to come to this meeting, and for choosing to listen to my legacy and plan for my rein. But I need you to be brutally aware of something. I am Vongola Decimo, I am Giotto's descendent and I promise you all that I will destroy the mafia."


End file.
